


Smells like...

by neuroglam



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Time, Kink, Love/Hate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuroglam/pseuds/neuroglam
Summary: No one really paid attention to neatness—or even bothered with locking up the iron doors of their lockers. Anything valuable—phones and the like—people either carried with them or gave to their coach. As for the rest, who needed sports jackets and worn jeans? Well, maybe some kind of fetishist pervert or something, but it’s not like there were many of those around.





	Smells like...

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Smells Like...](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/292293) by Birdy-on-a-wire. 



> SPAGged by [ Myshka](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoyalMouse/works) who saved you guys from so much crap. SOooo much crap.
> 
> If you find more, please point it out in a comment.

Yuri closed the locker room door and surveyed the mess: open bags, sports shoes under the benches, coats hanging every which way. No one really paid attention to neatness—or even bothered with locking up the iron doors of their lockers. Anything valuable—phones and the like—people either carried with them or gave to their coach. As for the rest, who needed sports jackets and worn jeans? Well, maybe some kind of fetishist pervert or something, but it’s not like there were many of those around.

At least not until recently.

It all started about a year ago. Yuri didn’t mean to: while tossing his things in his sports bag during yet another Gran Prix event, he happened to grab on someone else’s t-shirt. It was black like his and about two sizes larger. It also had the JJ logo—but Yuri only noticed all of this after he was back in his room.

At first, he kind of freaked out—what the fuck should he do with it? Take it to Leroy and say, “Here’s your crap?” JJ would probably make some dumb joke about distracted faeries, and that would be just the start of him taking the piss, so no way. Maybe he could try to toss it back with the rest of JJ’s shit during the next practice—but then he might get busted and that’d be worse.

“I’ll throw it out and be done with it!” Yuri crumpled it resolutely and sent it flying to the garbage bin. But the t-shirt turned out the be just as inept as its owner and fell in the middle of the room. So Yuri had to bend and pick it up and...

He didn’t really _want_ to smell it—in fact, it was the last thing he wanted—but it’s just that it so happened that the hand that held it went too close to his face… or something… doesn't matter…. and it smelled... _Of course_ it fucking smelled—what else would a skater's t-shirt do after training: of some kind of tangy eau de cologne and something else…

And this combination of mixing scents pissed and annoyed Yuri just like JJ himself.

But even so…

“Eww, fuck, what on Earth!” Realizing that he’d spent the last five minutes with his nose in another guy’s t-shirt, Yuri threw it far away in disgust—for some reason, not in the garbage bin but on the pile with his own clothes. And then, when he folded and sorted them to give to the hotel to wash, just happened to smell it—and short-circuit—again.

And that was, of course, the greatest most stinking fucking crap that could have happened—ending up sniffing at Leroy’s dirty t-shirt and liking it. But what took the crown was that smelling it got him hard: as a fucking rock, harder than he’d get when he’s watching fucking porn—like his balls would burst. And then, it got worse: while he was fisting his dick in the shower, his mind produced a perfectly filthy fantasy starring JJ. Because, what if it was  _his_ hand squeezing Yuri’s dick…

“Congratulations, Plisetsky,” he muttered to himself when he was done. “What a fucking day.”

He was ashamed to even look at his face in the mirror: face burning with embarrassment, messy hair, breathing still heavy from after he’d come... And how was he going to look at JJ after this—well, this is all JJ’s fault anyway, throwing his dirty t-shirts every which way but—how _could_ he look at JJ without wanting to sink into the ground; how could he look at anyone…

“You’ve got no further to sink anyway. You’re in the fucking Marianna Trench,” Yuri muttered.  
  
But it turned out that there _was_ further to fall, even though Yuri did his best to sit as far away from JJ in the locker rooms and spoke to him as little as possible—didn’t even snark back at his dumb teasing; didn’t even look at him, trying to hide his burning cheeks behind walls of hair.

Because Yuri ended up with another t-shirt: this time a red one. And not even by chance. Completely deliberately. He quickly picked it up from the locker room bench while walking past and tucked it in his bag. And like it wasn’t pathetic enough that he was obsessing, now he was a fucking thief, too. He hated himself—he was worse than Vitka and Katsudon—and he hated JJ for getting hung up on precisely his smell. But he couldn’t stop: neither wanking over JJ nor stealing his things (he had another t-shirt in his stash now, this one wide and grey, and he came so hard wearing it he could see stars).  
  
Was he cardinally fucked in the head, seeing as how he was doing this, or did he still stand a chance? He could ask no one for advice. Certainly not Victor and his Katsudon. Google did nothing to reassure him either, confirming only that there’s shit out there even more twisted than jerking off while sniffing the clothes of a guy whose guts you hated and having fantasies about him (detailed ones, thanks to the crapton of pics JJ posted on Instagram). He couldn’t even say anything to Beka, who was calm and wise and got him better than anyone—because how could he look at his friend in the eyes and actually explain this? He’d rather fucking die.

Well, he did try once, in a roundabout way: “This guy I know has the weirdest feelings for someone… there’s this guy that pisses him off so much and turns him on at the same time… well, kind of...”

“Kind of turns him on, right,” Beka was quick to smile. “You know, how about talking to him?”

“To whom?” Yuri blinked, dazed.

“Well, to the guy that pisses you off and turns you on at the same time.”

“Fuck you, asshole, I wasn’t talking about myself!” Yuri frowned and looked aside.

“Even if you weren’t,” said Otabek indulgently, “it doesn’t matter. Communication is the best way to sort out your feelings for someone.”

Yeah, right, how _hadn’t_ Yuri thought of that. “Communication.” Right.

He didn’t want to “communicate” with Leroy. What was he going to say? “I like how your things smell so I jerk off on them?” Or, “I think about you when I wank?” How about, “I want you to...” (Yeah. He’s sunk to thinking about that too now, thanks to Google and gay porn.) Communicate—so JJ could look at him with that condescending, self-satisfied smile? Jerking off over his shit was, honestly, preferable. All of these things he’d been thinking about were impossible anyway: JJ was straight, everyone knew that. And, even if he weren't, it wasn’t like Yuri would actually do any of the stuff he fantasized about.

________________

  
Yuri ran his fingers over the sweatshirt on the bench: dark red, almost burgundy in color, with the ever present maple leaf. It pissed him off to no end; affected him like a red flag would a bull—but even more excitingly, it smelled _exactly that way._ He’d wanted to add it to his collection for at least half a year, but there hadn’t been a chance—but how lucky, for Leroy to have left it unattended.

Yuri grabbed it close to his chest and burrowed his face in it…

“Ah-ha! So that’s who the clothes thief is!” a familiar voice said behind his back, making him jump almost to the ceiling. JJ was leaning on the door, hands crossed against his chest, and looked at him intently. “I was wondering—what kind of weirdo is stealing my clothes? And here it turns out to be our Russian fairy!” He grinned. “Wow! What a surprise!”

“Get lost.” Yuri tossed the sweatshirt back down. “Why the fuck would I need your crap?”

“How about you tell me—what _do_ you need it for?” Leroy stood up from where he was leaning against the door and walked towards Yuri. “Are you selling it on Ebay or something? Good addition to your prize money, huh?” He tilted his head. “O-or,” he giggled, “are you maybe secretly a fan?”

“Go fuck yourself,” hissed Yuri, turning away from JJ’s mocking look, his face burning. “Once again: I don’t give a fuck about your clothes.”

“Once again: I don’t believe you, little fairy.” JJ put his index finger under Yuri’s chin and turned it towards himself. “Your cheeks are burning, kid; it’s really obvious. So—what am I going to do with you?” he asked gently.

Yuri felt a chill on the inside, and his heart dropped as he realized that even if Leroy didn’t file a formal complaint, everyone was going to know regardless—JJ was bound to blurt it out somewhere in passing. And then… how many people would just love to be able to gossip about how Yuri Plisetsky, the youngest GPF gold medalist ever, the youngest European Champion—is a common thief? And what would his grandpa think, if he knew…

“What do you… want in exchange for keeping quiet?” He asked and swallowed, his mouth dry.

“Ooh, so we’re talking business!” JJ grinned even wider. “But you really don’t need to ask that. You’re blushing even harder, Yurochka…” He traced a finger down Yuri’s crimson cheek, even as Yuri flinched back and looked at him angrily. “Which proves, once again, that you’re no common thief...” JJ turned and moved towards the locker room door. “We’ll discuss this further tonight in my room,” he tossed around his shoulder on his way out. “Oh, and by the way—your coach was looking for you!”

 

________________

 

Yuri felt like he was on pins and needles for the entire rest of the day—constantly irritable under JJ’s mocking gaze from the other end of the rink. Even Feltsman shouting, “What’s wrong with you? You calling this a quad?” didn’t help. Yuri completely blew his entire training—as opposed to Leroy, who skated like he was gliding on water.

Afterwards, he tried and failed to keep from canvassing from one corner of his room to the other, worrying what JJ would ask of him in exchange for keeping quiet.

Finally, a short, “ _I’m waiting. 514,”_ flashed on his phone.

“Just tell me what you want!” Yuri blurted out as soon as the door opened to his knock.

“Would you like to maybe come in, first?” Leroy smiled and stepped to the side. “We can’t talk at the door.”

Yuri walked to the center of the room and turned to JJ. “Alright. I’m in. So? How much do you want?”

“Not how much _,_ but _what_ ,” JJ corrected. “Suck me off.”

“Wh-what?” Yuri stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Suck me off,” steadily repeated JJ.

“But you… you’ve got a girlfriend!”

“Are you seeing her anywhere?” JJ grunted. “And I’m horny.”

“Is your right hand not working or something?” Yuri grimaced.

“Oh, it is.” Leroy walked close to him. “But why do I need it when I’ve got such a good little fairy here,” he almost purred, picking up Yuri’s chin again, “and his mouth?”

“Are you fucking mental, JJ?”

“You think?” JJ raised an eyebrow. “It’s not me stealing other people’s things! And by the way, I’ll even let you keep the sweatshirt. What do you say?”

Yuri looked aside and mumbled. “I’ve never done it before.”

“And you’ve never seen porn either?” JJ asked. “ _Some_ time’s got to be your first one, princess. You’ll manage, it’s not complicated—the most important thing is, keep your teeth away from the action.” JJ smiled, pulling down his sweatpants and sitting on the bed. “Maybe you’ll even like it.”  
  
_Fucking asshole_ , Yuri thought and trudged to the bed after him, falling to his knees between JJ’s spread legs.

“Oh, this is a very promising start,” JJ smiled. “Yuri, meet my dick. Dick, this is Yuri.” At these words, JJ’s dick started filling out, as if indeed in greeting. “Now, Yuri is going to suck you,” JJ kept talking. “I hope you both enjoy it.”

“Are you an imbecile or something?” Yuri looked up at him.

“I’m just trying to melt the ice, you know?” JJ shrugged. “Make it more fun and more cheerful, like. Your face is so sour...”

“I didn’t come here to neigh at your lame jokes and be friends.” Yuri squinted at JJ’s already half-hard dick. “You washed it, right?”

“With soap, even!” assured Leroy. “Could I, in turn, ask if you’ve got good teeth?”

“Get lost!” angrily exclaimed Yuri.

“Sorry, bad joke, I forgot we’ve got the last virgin in figure skating here,” he said. “And, by the way, how come?”

“What’s it to you?” Yuri’s cheeks burned.

“Nothing, it’s just weird… You’re quite beautiful.” Leroy quickly brushed his cheek with a finger. If it were possible, Yuri blushed even harder. “And you look quite grown-up already. Did no one really...”

“Listen, there’s no need for this.” Yuri flinched away from the fingers that were sliding gently down his face. “If I have to do it, I’ll do it. I don’t need you to… set the mood or whatever.” He breathed in, breathed out, and bent forward.  
  
JJ’s dick was warm and smooth—and smelled… with that same smell that got to him so much. Listening to the quiet urgings of “take it in deeper” and “suck harder” (and the lewd little moans in between); obeying the burning palms that lay on the back of his neck and dug into his hair; licking at JJ’s fat dickhead—Yuri, too, got hard as hell. Because no matter how much he’d tried to deny it, this was exactly what he’d wanted, exactly what he’d pictured while he jerked off to JJ’s things—and now that it was happening, he couldn’t give a flying fuck if it was some kind of twisted kink, or a one-time deal.

“Oh, god, yes!” Yuri’s never had issues with his gag reflex, so it comes easy to him when he tries to do that “deep-throat” thing he’d seen in one of the porn movies—and judging by this reaction, JJ liked it quite a lot. “More!”

Yuri gave him more, and then still more, petting JJ’s balls and taking them in his palm—and fidgeting, because his own balls were full to bursting. He slid his tongue along the whole length, licked the head, then took it in deep again…

“Yurocha-ah!”

Yuri’s mouth filled up with come—warm, tasting kind of tangy but not disgusting—but he didn’t feel like swallowing it regardless.

“Fuck.” Pulling back, he wiped his mouth and chin with the hem of his t-shirt. “You could have fucking warned me, maybe.”

“Sorry, little fairy,” JJ said, smiling and falling back on the bed, still breathing heavily. “I didn’t manage—it was too good. Looks like you’re a born cock-sucker, kid, I can hardly believe you’ve never sucked anyone off before.”

“Get lost.” Yuri pursed his lips, which were trying to spread into a self-satisfied smile on their own accord. “Okay—so now we’re square.” He got up from his knees and, picking up the red sweatshirt from the bed, started towards the door. “See you later.”

“Wait, hold on.” JJ grasped his wrist and pulled him down on the bed. “Don’t be in such a hurry, princess. I’m very, very keen to know,” he said, laying a palm on Yuri’s bulge and squeezing it. “Now what do we have here—did you get hard blowing me?” He grinned widely. “I told you you’d like it!”

“Go fuck yourself!” Yuri tried to pull away so he can get up, but Leroy wouldn’t let him, pushing him flat on his back and pressing him to the mattress with all his weight.

“Good idea,” JJ nodded and slid a palm under the elastic of Yuri’s tracks. “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do...”

A large, hot palm brazenly got into his pants and confidently wrapped around his dick, and Yuri instinctively pushed into it and moaned—it was so good, but at the same time… he found that no, he wasn’t ashamed. Not that this was happening, and not that he’d sucked JJ off. It was just… weird, that was all. Because JJ was straight, he had a girlfriend—so why the fuck was he fisting Yuri’s dick, mumbling something or other in French, and sliding the tip of his tongue along Yuri’s neck? Kissing his cheek bones, his forehead, his nose, his lips—parting them with his tongue, sliding it along Yuri’s teeth, pressing in further… Why didn’t he look like a self-satisfied jerk at all, holding Yuri as he was still slightly shaking from his orgasm, and murmuring in French again—probably something dirty?

And why was this not pissing Yuri off—at all?

________________

“Alright, then—why were you stealing my things?” They were lying on the bed, holding each other—Yuri wearing _that_ sweatshirt, JJ absolutely naked and radiating heat like a stove.

“Why, why,” Yuri yawned. After all this, he just wanted to sleep, but Leroy, apparently, wanted to talk. “If you can’t get it by yourself...” Yuri pressed his clammy feet to JJ’s thighs.

“I think I have some kind of inkling,” JJ snorted into Yuri’s hair.

“Well, then—congratulations,” Yuri stuck his nose into JJ’s maple leaf tattoo. “Turns out you’re not as dumb as I thought you were...”

“ _Merci_.” JJ said.

“… And that you’re just as much of a pervert as I am.”

“You know, I actually quite liked these perversions. So, if you ever wanted to have some more of my clothes...”

“Fuck you!” All sleep flew away from Yuri’s eyes. He sat up sharply and, in the process, smelled the sweatshirt. “Are you fucking with me, JJ? I’m not going to… do any more shit with you!”

“Why?” JJ raised his eyebrows in surprise and sat, too.

“Because you’ve got a fucking girlfriend!” Yuri spat out. “Which you… So I can’t just...” he sighed, torn. Not hold him, not talk about “let’s do this again,” nothing! Shouldn’t even keep the blasted sweatshirt, because even _that_ crosses a line. This is already too much—Yuri sunk and softened, and pictured, all in one beat, that all this between them didn’t happen just because he got busted. That it was for real. As if there could be a “for real” with a person that pisses you off so much, like for example now—now maybe even more than before.

“Yuri,” JJ pulled him by the hem of his sweatshirt. “Once again,” he breathed in his ear, “do you see her here? We broke up a year ago now,” he said. “And guess why?”

“I don’t give a fuck why,” grumbled Yuri, trying to extricate himself from the trap of JJ’s arms. “You’re going to tell me yourself, anyway.”

“Because you’re not the only one jerking off to other people’s things,” sniffled JJ, “and get off on this.”

“Oh, yeah?” Yuri stopped struggling and looked suspiciously at JJ, who nodded. “So whose clothes do _you_ jerk off to?”

“How about you guess,” merrily said JJ. “The answer’s right here. In my sweatshirt, even. So,” he kissed Yuri deeply before Yuri was even done processing this information. JJ was no longer together with his girlfriend! JJ was not completely straight! JJ also jerked off thinking of him!

“You won’t be rid of me so easily now, my angry Russian fairy.”

“Yes, of course, sure, keep dreaming,” murmured Yuri, wrapping his hands around JJ’s neck. He didn’t want to go, either, least of all now. After all, it’s true—JJ does have so much more clothes to steal…

**Author's Note:**

> Adventures with translations continue. In this one, I'm working on not keeping perfectly to the original text in order to make the English sound more natural. I'd say I succeeded at around 70%. But while my translations still don't do justice to the original works (and I doubt they ever will), please enjoy this delightful jjurio and its excellent premise.


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